Chilled (Bone Secrets, #2)(92)

Alex blinked to get Samuel’s innocent face out of his mind. He mentally steeled his determination.

“I’m not armed. Let’s see you try to take me down. You’ve always said you could kick my ass if you weren’t sitting in a jail cell. Here’s your chance to prove it.”

Darrin rolled his eyes, but Alex saw the interest flicker. “Yeah, right. I’m the one with a gun. Try to talk me into putting it down.” He turned the gun on Alex. “I’ve thought a lot about how I would kill you if I had the chance. I’ve had lots of time to think. A bullet in the brain would end things too quickly. I wouldn’t like that. I’ve heard kneecaps are nice and painful, but I don’t trust my aim to be accurate enough to hit your skinny legs.”

Alex closed his eyes. Better the gun on me than Brynn.

“Open your eyes!” Darrin shrieked.

Alex obeyed. Darrin looked overstimulated, crazed, like a kid who’d been sucking down sugar and caffeine all day.

“Gut shot. I should be able to do that. You don’t die right away unless I rip your aorta or something. I’ve heard people can suffer for days after being shot in the stomach. You’ll be begging me to shoot you in the head.”

Darrin’s eyes lit up, and his gun lowered slightly to line up with Alex’s stomach. Brynn thrashed in his grip. “No! Don’t!”

Darrin gave her neck a rough twist. “Shut up!”

A gray blur lunged at the killer. Kiana’s teeth clamped around Darrin’s hand, and he shrieked as he dropped the gun. He flung Brynn to one side and kicked at the dog. Alex tuned out Kiana’s howl as he sprinted and tackled Darrin at the waist.





Brynn landed face-first in the snow, unable to catch herself with her tied hands. She flipped over and scooted away from the thrashing men. Alex was on Darrin’s chest, his hands around the murderer’s throat. Where was the gun? Brynn wildly scanned the snow and couldn’t see it. The cord at her wrists gave an inch and she yanked harder.

Darrin’s fist connected with Alex’s jaw, jolting him off balance. The men rolled, and Darrin ended up on top. Until Alex’s knee connected with his crotch. Darrin grunted, lost his grip, and Alex scuttled out from under him. From a crouch, Darrin sprang at Alex and knocked him on his back.

Brynn gasped. “Alex!”

Alex’s foot hung over the cliff’s edge. He thrust with his other foot and heaved away from the drop-off. Fists and snow flew. Curses and grunts filled the air.

Brynn saw Kiana raise her head. Thank God! The dog had been immobile since Darrin’s kick. Brynn struggled with her hands and felt the cord slide another inch.

“I’m gonna drown you like I drowned your retard brother!”

Brynn looked up and her heart stopped. Darrin had maneuvered the struggle back to the cliff’s edge. On his back, Alex’s shoulder dangerously bordered the rim.

“Fuck!” Flinging his legs up and shoving with his arms, Alex propelled Darrin headfirst over the edge toward the river. The killer screamed.

“Alex!” Brynn shrieked as Alex flopped on his stomach and grasped at the snow to keep from tumbling off the edge. He caught his balance and twisted to look over the ledge at the water. Alex lay transfixed for three seconds. He shot to his feet and his silver gaze appraised her. “Are you OK?”

Brynn nodded, her heart racing.

“I’ll be back.” Alex dashed downstream.

Alex fixated on the bobbing head in the river as he floundered along the bank. Darrin vanished and reappeared. Alex pushed hard, his lungs straining for air. Ahead, a tree had fallen partway into the river. If Darrin could catch it…

The rough water swept the man under the trunk.

“Damn it!”

Alex slid to a stop. Why’d he run after the man? Panting, he rested his hands on his knees. Because he was better than Besand. He couldn’t be a cold-blooded killer; it wouldn’t bring his brother back. And death was too easy for the murderer. He deserved a lifetime behind bars.

Color flashed on the other side of the tree trunk in the water. Alex squinted.

Darrin had caught a branch.

Alex jogged to the tree, pulled off his snowshoes and coat, and climbed onto the trunk. Darrin clung to a thin branch, his legs pointing downstream, his eyes wide. On frozen hands and knees Alex crawled out over the river. The tree sloped down at a thirty-degree angle into the water. He felt like he was about to tumble headfirst. It was like crawling on a narrow, rounded sheet of ice covered in snow. The tree vibrated with the pounding of the river and shook as debris caught in its underwater branches.

Holy Christ.

He inched forward, and his right knee slid. He sucked in a fast breath then righted, found a solid grip, and continued to creep forward inch by inch.

He stopped above Darrin’s branch and straddled the tree. He leaned forward, laying his chest on the trunk, and stretched out his right hand, anchoring himself with a branch in his left hand. Darrin clung to the branch with both hands, immersed in the water up to his armpits, and stared at Alex’s hand.

“Grab it, damn it! I’ll pull you in.” His knees tightened on the trunk like he was riding a horse. “Grab my hand!” His left hand slid a millimeter, and he tightened his hold. Darrin’s white fingers moved stiffly on his branch. His face was pale, his lips blue. He was running out of time. His limbs would soon be useless.